


it started with a minute of your favorite sound

by grumpyowls



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political Animals
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, short prompts, there will be porn in here, unrelated chapters but same verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:43:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyowls/pseuds/grumpyowls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five unrelated prompts but all set in the same au/verse thing.</p><p>01.) cooking gone wrong<br/>02.) good morning beej</p><p>the rest tba</p>
            </blockquote>





	it started with a minute of your favorite sound

**Author's Note:**

> in an attempt to force myself to learn how to write short things and how to end things, i'm doing a writing exercise and hopefully someone out there will reap the benefits from it.
> 
> these are all going to be steve/tj and mostly unrelated. these are also all set in a verse that's been established with a pal via rp stuff. anyhow. these are just going to be little snippets of the relationship throughout their time together. hope you enjoy!! as usual not beta'd and only i proofread it which means there's likely going to be mistakes until i catch them later.

It begins innocently enough roughly five weeks after The Incident. The Incident in question, of course, is the night TJ attempted to cook dinner for them and wound up setting not only the oven on fire, but the stovetop as well. He hadn’t _meant_ to, but it had happened. Possibly because he stopped paying much attention and hadn’t realized things started to bubble over. He would, however, like to go on record to say it wasn’t his fault. The only saving grace of that evening had been that Steve, _thankfully_ , hadn’t arrived yet, so the evidence was trashed and the apartment aired out.

Not well enough since Steve’s superhero nose smelled the lingering smoke, burned water, and at one time that meat was probably chicken, TJ can’t be really sure at this point in time anymore. The night hadn’t been a total bust—TJ had ordered takeout from the good Indian place and they had that instead. No one was to mention The Incident after that. Some good dish towels and pots had gone down in that fight.

However, it’s five weeks (or so) later, which apparently means it’s free game. It’s Steve’s turn to pick something for this particular date night, and he chooses to keep it a surprise. That should’ve been TJ’s first clue that tonight was going to turn into a certifiable disaster. But, he’d gone without much pressing for information (he’d only asked _seven_ times instead of _ten_ ; an improvement!); sometimes surprises could be fun. Steve’s usually were. TJ’s unsuspecting of what awaits him when they pull up to a nondescript building. Steve is all smiles, so why should he suspect his boyfriend of heresy? 

But it seems that’s the case.

They enter the room—it’s a classroom, sort of—and several pairs of eyes turn in their direction, some widening in recognition of one or the other. TJ stiffens beside Steve when he realizes just what’s going on here. He doesn’t have to look over to know there’s a smile on his stupid mouth.

“A cooking class,” he says, flatly. _Really_??

Steve’s finger points into the air; TJ can _hear_ the smile. “A _couple’s_ cooking class.”

A thought crosses his mind to just turn around and walk out. The idea of strangers learning that he’s a disaster in the kitchen isn’t all that thrilling. There’s so little left of his life that isn’t public knowledge or mockery. He _really_ doesn’t want something else. But, he makes the mistake of looking over at Steve and he’s looking at him with that hopeful sort of expression that makes TJ feel guilty for saying no. So, he sighs rather dejectedly knowing he’s licked, and elbows Steve in the side. 

“Fine. We’re staying in the back, though.”

And they do. There’s a very nice couple beside them that they wind up talking to before the class starts. Turns out they’re both disasters in the kitchen and thought it’d be helpful _and_ fun. TJ makes nice, but inside he knows this is going to be neither helpful nor fun for him.

And it isn’t.

The class starts and it’s very basic. They learn how to hold kitchen knives, how to cut things properly. Tonight they’re going to learn how to make omelettes. That’s easy enough. At least, that’s the idea of it all. Somehow he manages to squish the tomato into a mess, so they have to skip that. Steve’s red pepper is cut “perfectly”—so well, his was used as an example (TJ’s happy for him, really, he can be proud of his boyfriend even when he’s making a mess of things). The cheese shredding went okay, until TJ nicked his finger on the grater. But, it’s fine, he didn’t need that layer of skin on his knuckle anymore. (At the very least, the girlfriend of the couple next to them did the same thing. He’s not alone.) The onion makes his eyes water and he refuses to chop up the chives and makes Steve do it.

Every single egg he cracks, he gets shell in the bowl. It’s a mad dash to figure out how to get it out and by the end of it, he literally has egg on his face. (The boyfriend next to them dropped two on the floor, so TJ doesn’t feel _as_ bad about himself anymore. They're a mess over there, too.) He’s trying, he’s trying his very best to have a good time and laugh about it, but he’s kind of feeling like an idiot.

Which only gets worse as he completely, totally, _utterly_ burns the omelette in the pan. It was likely three seconds away from catching fire (he’d swear he saw a spark). A stinky plume of smoke rises from the pan and TJ covers his face with his hands. Not for long, though, they reek of onion. He groans, tipping his head back while dragging his hands down his face. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Steve digging around the plated burnt to a crisp _thing_ that at one time could’ve been food.

“What are you _doing_?!”

Somehow, perhaps by the grace of God, Steve manages to get a piece that isn’t completely charred egg. “It’s not _all_ burnt.” 

TJ watches in horror as he eats it. “You’re banned from kissing me for the rest of the night.”

Steve just laughs, invades TJ’s space without a care and leaves a big, wet, smack of a kiss against his temple. “Don’t be like that. I think you’re improving.”

He’s not, but TJ just lets it go anyway. Suffice to say, he is the disaster of the evening. If there was an award, he would get it, no question. No one else burned theirs (or burned it _so_ badly). The couple next to them didn’t cook theirs long enough so it was kind of gross, too. At least they could commiserate together. After cleaning up and getting ready to leave, Girlfriend from Table Nine (TJ can’t remember her name, he’ll have to ask Steve later) asks if they’re coming next week. Apparently, it’s some sort of chicken dish—otherwise known as TJ’s worst nightmare.

Somehow, the following week they find themselves back in the same classroom, next to the same couple. And TJ’s hardly surprised that Thursdays turn into cooking class night and somehow they’ve made their first _couples_ friends.


End file.
